Morning Wood
by eyesocketsandsuits
Summary: [[ Romano / America oneshots ]] Alfred continued to wash happily next to Lovino. Literally, right next to him. Lovino could hear the sound of Alfred's hands gliding over his skin, flesh against flesh, smooth and slippery and wonderfully, wonderfully close.
1. Morning Wood

**Anonymous said :** I wondering, if you have time, would you write a romerica (Romano and America).

* * *

It was _not_ gay to look at another guy's dick.

Lovino thought this as he stared straight ahead.

In fact, it was almost _expected_ to look at another's guy dick. After all, the bathroom had no fucking shower curtains. It was just a long wall of shower spouts and knobs, a drain right in the middle. By eight in the morning, there were at least two dicks within touching/looking distance.

Lovino ran a hand over his face. His shower was a touch below warm.

Alfred, meanwhile, seemed quite happy, dick swinging in the breeze.

When Lovino first saw Alfred's dick, he was surprised that it wasn't tiny from steroids. Then he realized that Alfred didn't use steroids—he was just really, really jacked. And he had a nice, steroid-free dick.

Lovino hadn't _meant_ to look at Alfred's dick. Not the first time, anyways. The fucker had just walked right in, towel over his shoulder. Lovino stared at him, because it was three in the God damned morning.

"Mornin'," Alfred had greeted, smiling.

"Fah," Lovino had responded, because the speaking-part of his brain didn't function this early.

Alfred had shrugged and started his shower.

Lovino had continued to stare. Lovino worked for the college newspaper, and the newspaper started printing at fuck-early. Lovino wasn't awake without a shower.

Alfred just seemed to like taking showers really, really early.

This was fine at first; Alfred stayed at his end of the bathroom, Lovino his. But over the past two weeks, Alfred had slowly been inching his showering closer to Lovino's spout.

Lovino turned the temperature down.

Alfred continued to wash happily next to Lovino. Literally, right next to him. Lovino could hear the sound of Alfred's hands gliding over his skin, flesh against flesh, smooth and slippery and wonderfully, wonderfully close.

"Your shower is pretty cold. I can feel the droplets from here."

"Well," Lovino said, voice echoing loudly against the tile, "maybe you shouldn't shower so fucking close."

Alfred shifted, and there was a pout in his voice. "There's a draft by that end."

Lovino switched his attention to his feet, and struggled to find something to say that didn't involve the proximities of dicks.

A tan hand entered Lovino's peripheral vision. "Dude, your water is freezing."

Warm water rolled over Lovino's shoulders, and the instant it reached his dick, Lovino got hard.

"I _like_ it cold," Lovino yelled, slamming the handle to 'cold.'

A mistake had been made. Lovino tried not to cry as fucking cold ass water slowly froze him to death. He hadn't even conditioned his hair yet. He had to stick with it, because Alfred was grinning. With shaking fingers, Lovino picked up the bottle of hair conditioner and squirted some into his palm.

"Wow, you must like it _really_ cold."

Lovino glared—another mistake. Alfred was facing him, arms crossed, water running over his glorious, glorious muscles. The light caught on tendons and other delicious things. Lovino snapped his eyes back to the wall.

He got hard, anyways. The conditioner dripped down his hand.

"You some sort of gay or something?"

Lovino's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his chest painfully, and it was impossible to even attempt to answer that question. His shoulders hunched up, and Lovino hated Alfred and his dick in that moment.

Alfred shape loomed nearer. "Would you suck my dick, if I asked you?"

Lovino found his voice. His eyes flicked to Alfred. "Fuck you."

But Alfred's face was a confusing mix of emotions. He was smiling, but his eyebrows were drawn together, head tilted, like Lovino was a difficult math problem. It was strange to be in the center of that look, and it made Lovino break the eye contact.

"Would you let me suck your dick?"

Lovino tensed up again, and he faced Alfred. " _Fuck_ you."

Alfred scratched the back of his neck. "Morning wood."

Lovino squinted. " _What_?"

"Morning wood makes me horny," Alfred said quickly. "So, I was just wondering."

Lovino blew air out his lips in a laugh. "You were just wondering if you could blow me because your morning wood made you horny? Ha, yeah, okay."

Alfred's jaw clenched. "I'm serious. I've seen you get hard before in here. So…" Alfred grabbed the back of his shoulder and let his elbow hang. "No homo."

Lovino stared. "Did you really just say 'no homo' to sucking my dick?"

"It's not—not, you know." Alfred gestured to Lovino's crotch. "It's like eating soft serve ice cream, right?"

"Oh my God, it's too early for this."

"But you think I'm hot, don't you?" Alfred smiled. "You could just touch me."

"Look," Lovino chopped the air emphatically with his hands, "I just want to condition my hair and get to my shitty extracurricular."

"I could walk you there."

"You were much hotter when we hadn't said more than ten words to one another."

Alfred's smile grew. "You admit I'm hot, though."

However, Alfred continued to fucking _talk_ to Lovino. Every fucking morning, it went something like:

"This asshole on my team thinks just because he's a fucking tank that he can call the shots, even when coach calls him an idiot. That's what he is, too," Alfred said, brusquely scrubbing over his bruises. "He's a fucking idiot."

"You're a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm a hot idiot."

This was true. Alfred was a fucking idiot, who liked to party and play football and drink. But he was also hot.

So, usually, Lovino blocked out whatever fucking dribble Alfred was talking about and focused on his body. It was a very, very nice body. At least Lovino didn't have to hide his hard-on anymore.

One morning, Lovino was looking at Alfred's thighs when the jock repeated himself. Lovino looked up, disoriented.

"What?"

Alfred pointed at Lovino's hands. "Why are those always black?"

"My hands?" Lovino stared at his hands like he had never seen them before. "I work for the newspaper."

Alfred tilted his head like he did when he was confused. "So?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Even though we have a digital version, we _do_ still print a version. I check to make sure the printer isn't fucking up. The ink's usually still wet."

Alfred lunched forward and caught hold of Lovino's wrist. Lovino made sort of a _arck_ noise before Alfred dragged Lovino's hand over his pectoral muscle.

Lovino stole his hand back.

"Look, it didn't leave any streaks!"

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Alfred smiled. "Sorry."

"No you're not! You're not allowed to touch me. You—You're not allowed to make me touch you." Lovino fumbled. "You're not allowed to have me grope you against my will!"

"I didn't mind."

" _I_ minded!"

"Yeah, but, like, I didn't grope _you_ , ya' know?" Alfred wiggled the fingers on his hands. "Grope, grope, grope."

Lovino stepped away. "I have mace."

"You know, I maced someone, once."

"I'm not fucking surprised."

"He was a lot like you—he was a giant bitch."

Lovino pursed his lips. "Fuck you."

"I don't think mace hurts _that_ much."

Lovino squirted the shampoo bottle at Alfred's face. Lovino sort of expected Alfred's superior reflexes to save him. It caught Alfred full in the eyes; he didn't even try to move away, like a deer in headlights.

Lovino sucked in air through his teeth.

Alfred bellowed.

" _Fucking ow_!"

"Sorry, fuck!"

" _Fucking ow, dude_!"

"It was a joke!"

"You squirted fucking _shampoo_ in my eyes!"

Lovino winced. "It was supposed to be like mace! I thought you would move—don't rub it in! Stop touching it—"

"Shampoo isn't even _close_ to mace, assfuck!"

The next time Lovino saw Alfred, he had glasses.

Internally, Lovino panicked. He had fucking _blinded_ someone.

"Yeah," Alfred rambled, "I went to the doctor, and I guess I _wasn't_ blind, I just had bad vision and only noticed it after the shampoo in my eyes. Can I get an apology blowjob?"

"You can fuck right off, is what you can do."

Lovino learned a very valuable lesson in the shitty, public bathrooms of his shitty, public college: Never talk to people you're wildly attracted to, because as soon as they open their mouth, they're going to disappoint the _fuck_ out of you.


	2. Weak, Mobster Arms

It was almost home. Warm and sandy. Waves. Lovino never realized how comforting water could be. Nothing around, you could see for miles.

"How ya' doin'?"

Lovino dug his toes into the sand. His cheeks and arms were hot. "Ah, so you're fucking back again."

Alfred sat next to him. "Yup. Couldn't stay on my side of the island, what can I say?"

A faint movement on the horizon. Lovino perked. "You think that's a ship?"

Alfred squinted. "Can't see shit without my glasses."

Lovino gave him a look. "You wear glasses?"

"You seem surprised by that! Lost them when we washed up, I guess." Alfred gave a shrug. "Can't see dick without them. I used to be only nearsighted, but now I can't see anything."

Nothing. A bird, probably.

"When _I_ washed up."

Alfred blew air out his cheeks. "Are you _really_ still on that?"

Lovino hunched his shoulders. "Fuck you."

Alfred gave him a push. "Hey. _Hey_. Look at me! Do I seem fake to you? Do I?" Alfred gave him another push, and Lovino had to put his hand out onto the sand to stop himself from falling over. "How fake do I seem now?" Alfred snarled.

Lovino slapped Aflred's hands away. "I don't give a _fuck_! All I know is that I searched this entire fucking Godforsaken island, and I didn't see _you_ ," Lovino gave him a shove back, "until _after_ I started getting dehydrated!"

"Are you _shitting_ me?"

Alfred rolled onto his side and fucking _kicked_ Lovino. Lovino fell into the sand and sucked in grit, his lungs on fire, sand in his nose. He struggled and stood, but Alfred was already walking away.

"Mother fucker!" Lovino screamed.

Something took over Lovino's legs, and he _sprinted_ at Alfred. He felt his elbow hit the small of Alfred's back, and the other man gave an awkward squawk as they both skidded into the seagrass, faces pressed into the sand.

Lovino's legs had gotten tangled up with Alfred's. He kicked and struggled to get away, but Alfred had grabbed the back of Lovino's shirt. The collar tightened, and Lovino could feel his face get warmer, his neck burn.

Alfred's other hand slapped around the front of Lovino's face, and they both fell back, Lovino's hair in Alfred's face.

But at this angle, Lovino could breathe, and he gasped a lungful of air. Lifted his head, slammed it back into Alfred's nose, heard a crack.

Alfred's grip loosened, and that was all Lovino needed to wriggle free, get his feet under him, and _run_.

 **...**

But there was only so far you could run on an island.

And, well, there was only so much company on an island. Alfred came back to Lovino before the sun set.

 **…**

Lovino was trying to haul himself up a tree. But he hadn't used his arms in years, and any strength he once had in his teens had all but disintegrated. His arms burned, sweat dripped down his face, stung his eyes.

"What—"

Lovino nearly jumped out of his skin. He slid down the tree, slinters digging their way under his fingernails. Pain made stars burst across his vision, and he sank to the ground, tears already streaming down his face.

There were hands near his face, and Lovino flinched away. "Touch me and I'll kill you."

Alfred crouched down in front of him. "Hey, hey, it's okay, okay? I'm not gonna' hurt you. I've forgiven you for breaking my perfect nose, okay?"

Lovino blinked away tears. Dried blood had crusted under Alfred's nose.

"Sorry," Lovino said, voice hoarse.

Alfred shrugged. "What were you trying to do, anyways?"

"Coconuts."

Alfred made a face. "What?"

"I'm dehydrated. Coconuts have juice in them."

Alfred gaped. "You're fucking with me. They have _juice_ in them?!"

And then he climbed up the fucking tree like a squirrel. Literally, Alfred gripped the trunk with his arms and legs and pulled himself up, ascended like an angel to heaven.

Lovino stared. Coconuts fell from the sky, and then Alfred fell, yelling.

 **...**

It took them a few hours to find a sharp enough rock, and by that time, it was getting dark.

They took turns sipping from the coconuts Alfred broke open, directed by Lovino's eyes. They sat and looked for boats against the sinking sun.

It was the first time Lovino had felt right since he washed up on this island. A headache he didn't know he had was gone, and he felt alert, energized. He felt less hot, and his mouth didn't taste like dust.

Alfred must have also felt better, because he wouldn't shut the fuck up.

"I have this golden retriever, and I would die for that dog. Me and my ex fought tooth and nail over him, and we ended up having to get some court-thing that said we had to share custody of him every other week." Alfred took a sip of coconut.

"That's really fucking dumb."

Alfred shrugged. "Hey man, I didn't ask for such a bitch of an ex, but I can't change that. That dog is my son."

Lovino snorted. "You're just like my brother—a fucking idiot."

"Oh, you have a brother? I have a brother, too. His name is Matt and he's really into comic books. Yeah, we have tickets to go see this hockey game, 'cause he's wicked into them, and we're gonna' try to get this girl with huge tits' phone number for him 'cause—"

"You're not," Lovino muttered, "going to see anything."

Alfred withdrew, leaned away from him. "That's not very optimistic, bro."

"We're stuck on a fucking _island_ in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Fuck, I don't even know _where_ we are, Alfred! We're going to die of exposure or dehydration or starvation or fucking sunstroke, okay?! So shut up about—" Lovino's voice cracked, and he cut himself off.

Lovino looked away, then stood up. He didn't want this stranger to see his face. See him cry.

He was going to die here.

"I'm gay."

Lovino turned around. " _What_?"

Alfred stared at him. "I'm gay. I've never told anyone."

Lovino made a face. "Why the fuck are you telling _me_?"

Alfred shrugged. "Like, you just shared something personal with me, so, like, I figured I'd return the favor? You're scared of dying, I'm gay."

"You're telling me you're _not_ afraid of dying?"

Alfred laughed. "Nah, man, I called my brother to tell him we crashed landed."

Lovino's brain short-circuited. "What?"

Alfred held up his phone. "I have coverage like, everywhere. Except at my house and work. And I have the Otterbox case, so it's waterproof—"

Lovino held up his hands. "You're telling me you fucking _called_ someone and didn't _tell_ me?"

"Well, I was going to tell you, but then you insisted I was a fake dude and I sorta' snapped."

Lovino took a deep breath. Held it. Released it. "I hate you so much."

"I—"

Lovino ran and tackled him, his knee connecting nicely with Alfred's chin.

* * *

 **Anonymous said : "** Romerica. Stranded on an island **"**


End file.
